Black and Blue
by WhyAye
Summary: There's a murder to solve, and Lewis doesn't have time for the party he has to attend with his boss. With all that distraction, he and Hathaway both make mistakes en route to solving the crime, and another life is lost along the way.
1. Monday

"Morning, Sir. Have a good weekend?" Detective Sergeant James Hathaway was unusually cheery for a Monday.

He drew a suspicious glare from his superior officer, Detective Inspector Robert Lewis.

"Why?"

"No offense intended, just trying to be friendly."

"It was alright. Watched too much football on the box. Didn't get much done. No injuries, no natural disasters, no telegrams bringing bad news, so I suppose it was a good weekend."

"Do people still send telegrams? I should think they'd be extinct by now."

"I'm surprised a youngster like you has even heard of them. Do you also know what a typewriter is?"

"I do indeed. But I'm pretty well-read in history."

Lewis just rolled his eyes.

"Oh, Inspector Lewis." Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent popped her head around the corner.

"Ma'am?" Sinking feeling. She obviously wanted something.

"This Thursday night, is your diary clear?"

"Thursday? I'll have to check." He stared off into space for a half second. "You're lucky. It just so happens I'm not doing anything." He glared at Hathaway's snort.

"Oh, good. I've been invited to the Lord Mayor's party that night and I absolutely cannot go unescorted. Mister Innocent has been called out of town unexpectedly and won't be returning until very late Thursday night." She smiled benignly.

He was already shaking his head. "Oh, no. Don't look at me. I'm hopeless at anything involving people with titles. I wouldn't know what to say to the Lord Mayor."

"Don't be silly, Lewis. There will be at least a hundred people there. You probably won't even meet the Lord Mayor personally. But it's imperative that I make an appearance there. And it would be helpful if you did the driving."

"What, drive my humble Vauxhall to the Lord Mayor's party?"

"Of course not. We'll be using my husband's Aston Martin."

Hathaway could see Lewis's eyes widen and his nostrils flare slightly. _That is actually an incentive for him_.

"Not your Volvo?'

"Certainly not. The seats are covered in dog hair."

"Ah."

"Great then, seven o'clock Thursday." She swirled out the door, but then stopped and turned back for a moment. "Oh, and it's black tie."

"Ma'am, black tie?" A particularly pained expression.

"Do you have a problem with that, Lewis? You _do_ have a dinner jacket, don't you?"

He looked a bit shamed. "No, Ma'am, I don't. Er, not one that fits me." He tried to conceal his hope that this would get him out of it.

She gave him an exasperated glare. "Fine. _Come_." The last was an indisputable command. She turned and left the office.

Lewis scrambled up after her. "Ma'am? Where are we going?"

"We are going, Lewis, to Mister Innocent's bespoke tailor. You're getting a proper tuxedo."

"Ma'am, I can hardly afford --"

"I'll pay for it, Lewis, don't worry about that. I need you to look good for this."

Behind her back, Lewis managed a serious grimace. "Good luck with that project, Ma'am."

* * *

He was back at the office shortly after lunchtime. Hathaway assumed the tone of nosy concern that Lewis found detestable and, at the same time, hard to resist.

"So, how did it go?"

"How did _what_ go, Sergeant?"

"Your fitting. What does your new tux look like?"

"It's _black_, okay? Like every other tux. Innocent and the tailor ran around holding bolts of fabric up to me and I just stood there and let him put his hands all over me in unspeakable places while she watched. It was damned unnerving."

"It wouldn't bother you if you'd had your suits made since you were old enough to wear them."

Lewis appraised his sergeant's attitude. "Well, I haven't. And I'm glad I haven't, come to that. It's not something I care to get used to."

But Lewis didn't have much time to stew about it. Not long after, they were called to a crime scene. A body had been found at a scrap yard.

They arrived in a spray of gravel, the SOCOs crew looking up, startled, as Lewis brought the Vauxhall to a skidding stop.

"Sir? Is there some reason we're stunt drivers today?"

"I'm practicing for the Aston Martin. You have a problem with it?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Hathaway?"

"What?"

"You can let go of the dash now."

They approached the taped-off crime scene, and the pathologist, Doctor Laura Hobson, met them halfway. She did a quick check to gauge the mood between the two. _Not all is well. _But she couldn't quite tell what was amiss.

"Your victim is Samuel Ferris, apparently the owner of this scrap yard. He has been strangled, probably with bare hands, sometime between six and ten last night. Sorry I can't be more precise at the moment." She checked the mood again, and continued.

"It looks like he struggled a bit, but his assailant overpowered him." She pointed out the signs.

While Lewis examined the contents of the man's wallet, Hathaway slunk up to Hobson, a smirky smile on his face.

"James. What naughtiness are you up to?"

He kept his voice low. "I thought you'd like to know. Inspector Lewis is taking the place of Mister Innocent at a fancy do later this week."

"Is he? I'll bet he's looking forward to that."

"No doubt. Fierce competition, that Mister Innocent."

"What are you two whispering about?" Lewis was trying not to look annoyed.

Laura couldn't hide her smile.

"Hathaway tells me you're representing Mister Innocent at a social soirée. How do you play an imaginary man?"

"He's not imaginary, he's just . . . I dunno. Busy."

Hathaway snickered. Hobson chuckled.

"_What?_" Lewis was losing his patience.

"Nothing." Hobson wiped her face blank.

"Nothing." Hathaway looked absolutely cherubic.

"Riiiiiight."

* * *

By half past four they were done at the site. Hathaway collected the computer, which appeared to be the storage device for the CCTV, and they headed off to the address they had identified as Ferris's home. Lewis drove quietly; the bad news he was bearing weighed on him, as it always did.

Julia Ferris took the news hard, crying copiously and loudly. She was almost pretty, Lewis thought, but had a bit too much of a harshness he found disturbing. She appeared to be considerably younger than her now-deceased husband.

"Where were you last night, Mrs. Ferris?" Lewis had a way of asking questions that sounded as if he were doing so out of friendly concern.

"I had parent-teacher conferences all evening. I teach geography to sixth form students."

"Would you have a list of the parents you met with, and the times?"

"Certainly." She turned to the open bag on the table, sorted through several papers, and pulled out a single sheet on which the parents had signed in and noted their times of arrival. The meetings started at six and went until nine.

"And after this, did you come straight home?"

"Yes, I had a headache by then. Took some tablets and went right to bed."

"You didn't notice your husband missing?"

"Oh, he stays late at work fairly often. I didn't think about it at all."

Hathaway took a turn. "What about this morning, when he wasn't here either?"

"Again, it's not unusual." Her eyes welled up. "I went through the whole day thinking nothing was wrong. Poor Sam!" She was sobbing again.

Hathaway put a hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly. "Mrs. Ferris, we need you to do something for us, if you're up to it."

* * *

Lewis got a constable to drive her home after she identified the body. As they walked back to their office, Hathaway could tell Lewis was deep in thought. But he said nothing until they were sitting at their desks.

"I don't believe her." Lewis began the conversation without any introduction. Hathaway knew exactly what page he was on.

"Why not? You think our victim is someone else?"

"No, not that. I don't believe her tears. I think she was acting."

Hathaway knitted his brow, thinking about the encounter they had with the newly widowed Julia Ferris.

"People react in their own ways."

Lewis stared at him for a moment. "I do know that, Sergeant, thank you. And I think by now I might have a bit more experience than you at telling a genuine reaction from one that is not."

"Sorry, Sir. But if these parents confirm her story, she's alibied to the hilt."

"I'm aware of that. I didn't say she was the killer, I'm just saying I don't think she's as torn up as she appears. Okay?"

Hathaway didn't answer. He knew he couldn't win any points, and things would probably get worse the closer it got to Thursday evening.

* * *

They were able to contact almost all of the parents on the list. Each one confirmed that he or she had met with Julia Ferris the night before, and the only gaps between the meetings were short ones. Except for the last. According to the list, Margaret Fisher had arrived at a quarter past eight. But her telephone was out of service.

"Hathaway, get contact information from the school tomorrow and maybe we can visit her in person. If there was no meeting, that would put Mrs. Ferris well within the six-to-ten time frame."

Hathaway worked at getting the CCTV footage from the computer and Lewis began combing through the scrap yard's business books. A few hours later, Doctor Hobson called them over for her post-mortem report.

Lewis was nearly trotting as he entered her lab. "So? What do we have, Doctor?" Hathaway smiled to himself as he noticed that Lewis was more cheery than he'd been all day. The Hobson Effect.

"Well, he was definitely strangled, I'd say by a man. Not easy to fell a man this size. Could be a woman, but she'd have to be bigger than I am, and quite strong. Maybe if she surprised him she could do it."

Lewis put his own hand up next to the marks on the dead man's neck to compare the size. "These hands were bigger than mine." He held his out, as if it were a sample.

"There are women who would qualify, Inspector. Your hands aren't all that big." She matched her slightly smaller palm to his, and Hathaway suppressed a smile.

She continued. "There is one other thing remarkable about your corpse. He apparently had been healthy in almost every way, except he suffered from hyperprolactinaemia."

She knew it would stump them before she even said the word.

Lewis's lips moved as he said it over to himself. "And in English, we say . . .?"

"He was sterile. Biologically unable to produce sperm cells."

"Ah. Been that way for a while, do you think?"

"Hard to tell, exactly. But hyperprolactinaemia often goes untreated for some time in men because they may not notice any symptoms." She looked at Lewis directly. "Especially those who are not sexually active."

Hathaway turned away sharply, exercising all the self-control he had in him and drawing a slight frown from Lewis.

"Other than that, I have nothing more to report. I can narrow the time of death a little, I'd say it was sometime between six and nine last night. I'll get the written report over in the morning, if that's soon enough. I need to clean up here yet."

* * *

They compared notes back at their office.

"Well, the books are a bit irregular." Lewis pulled open a ledger. "For one thing, nobody does this on paper any more. And he'd been in trouble with the VAT a couple of times in the past, most recently only a few months ago. Looks like he got it paid up though."

"How far behind was he?"

"Well, with the penalty and interest, looks to be about sixteen thousand pounds. Paid it in one payment. I'd like to know where he got the cash."

"Yeah, so would I." Hathaway then shared his own findings. "I checked out the CCTV of the yard, there was some unusual activity around eight, if the clock is correct on this. I stopped it running at that point. Haven't gotten a good look yet at what all happened."

Hathaway pointed to the screen and clicked the Play button. The images were grainy and jumpy from the time-lapse. A man appeared, looking much like the victim. He was crossing the yard at a steady pace when another person jumped out from behind a car body and grabbed him from behind. They watched in silence as the first man was killed. The second ran off in the direction of the gate. It was impossible to tell the killer's gender or to make out any facial features.

The two men found it sobering to watch the murder, and not long afterward they were both ready to call it a night. They knew each other well enough that no words were needed as they packed up their work, shut down their computers, turned out the light, and headed for the car park, side by side.


	2. Tuesday

Hathaway was surprised to find Lewis already at work when he arrived in the morning. Several DCs were also hard at work, poring over the finance records of Ferris's scrap yard.

Lewis looked up from his work, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and took the pencil from between his lips. "Hathaway, have you crawled all over that computer yet, or only looked at the CCTV?"

"Last night all I got to was the CCTV. Looking for something in particular?" He powered up the machine.

"Yeah, any financial records: VAT, inventory, balance sheets. There's something not quite right about these paper records. And get me the address for that parent, what's her name? Margaret Fisher?"

Lewis was getting up from his desk and putting on his jacket.

"And where will you be, Sir?"

"I have to go for a fitting at the tailor's." A cross between petulant and resigned. "I'm told it shouldn't take very long this time."

By the time Lewis returned, Hathaway had indeed turned up some interesting information. The computer contained a second set of financial records in hidden files, and the accounting on these was rather different. Inventory included dozens of automobile parts of unrecorded origin, and these evidently brought in a fair amount of income that went unrecorded in the paper ledgers. The money for the VAT payment apparently was borrowed from a man with a very Russian surname. There was almost no record of it, only a single mention in Ferris's diary.

"He owed money to the Russian Mafia, d'y'think?"

"Strangling with bare hands . . . not the Mafia's style. Anyway, why kill him when he seems to be making enough in dodgy car parts to pay some of it back?"

Lewis didn't answer. The case seemed to be creating more questions and no answers.

"Come on, let's visit Margaret Fisher."

They went to Fisher's house, but there was no answer to their knock. Lewis left his card stuck on the door with a note for her to please call him as soon as possible.

Back at the office, things were slowing down. The DCs hadn't found anything more of interest on the computer, and their notes from what they had learned to date didn't take long to write up.

Hathaway was idly browsing the web when it occurred to him how quiet things were on the other side of the room. He glanced up. Lewis was studying him.

"Sir?"

Lewis sighed. "Hathaway, this thing that Innocent is dragging me to. I'm going to be meeting all kinds of posh, titled bores and I will make the Chief Super look bad if I appear to be the ignorant northerner that I am." He studied his fingers. "Can you give me some quick tutoring on what I call all of these aristocratic icons? Who's 'my lord,' who's 'my grace,' who's just 'sir,' and all that."

"Of course, Sir. Do you know who will be attending?"

"No idea."

"Well, we'll have to review all of them then. Let's start with the Lord Mayor. She is 'The Right Worshipful Lord Mayor,' or 'Your Worship."

This caused Lewis obvious distress. "Aw, no, you're not serious. 'Worship'?" He looked despairingly at Hathaway. "How did she talk me into this? I'm going to be completely hopeless at it."

"I think there was a bribe involving an Aston Martin."

"It's not worth it. Think it's too late for me to make up something for Thursday night?"

"I'm certain of that. C'mon, you better take notes." He adopted the air of a patient tutor. "Now, most people are simply 'my lord' or 'my lady.' There are really only a few exceptions."

They spent the next several hours reviewing the forms of address for various members of the nobility, the clergy, and the government. Lewis took careful notes on everything, and answered everything correctly when Hathaway quizzed him.

"I think you've got it down, Sir. You're not secretly interested in peerage, are you?"

Lewis glared at him, even after he recognized the wind-up. "I'm finding this whole event extraordinarily painful, Sergeant. I'd appreciate it if you didn't engage in humour at my expense. Okay?"

Properly chastised, Hathaway conceded. "Sorry, Sir."

Margaret Fisher called them later in the afternoon and they dropped what they were working on to go to her house. She confirmed that she met with Julia Ferris about her son, Daniel, from a quarter past eight until nine o'clock.

"How'd the meeting go? Is Daniel doing alright as a student?" Lewis sounded like any other concerned parent.

"Oh, she's a wonderful teacher, all the students love her. And it might be wrong for me to say, but her husband's death is no great loss, even though it comes at a difficult time for her. He beat her, you see."

"What do you mean, this was a difficult time for her?" Hathaway sounded priestly, inviting the confessional.

"Oh, well, she had been pregnant. Just last week he beat her so badly she lost the baby. The poor, poor woman."

"How do you know this? Were you close to her?" Lewis found it odd that anyone would share her private life so openly with anyone but her closest friends.

"Danny told me all about it. She was completely open with her students. I suppose that's why they trusted her so. Danny absolutely adored her. And that turned his school work around. Up until he had her as a teacher, he was not at all motivated to do his work. But this year, he made a complete about face, staying late to do extra work and improving his marks in every subject. She was the best thing that happened to him."

"Is Daniel home now, Mrs. Fisher?"

"No, he said he and his friends were going to study together. Some exam or another coming up this week."

"We'd like to talk to him at some point. Would you have him give us a call as soon as possible?"

Lewis had Hathaway do the driving back to the office. He was lost in thought. Still, Hathaway had his own nagging suspicion he had to bounce off his senior officer.

"Sir?"

Lewis refocused on the present. "Yeah?"

"How did Julia Ferris get pregnant if her husband was sterile?"

"How, indeed. Ideas?"

"One of her adoring students?"

"James, that's revolting!" He considered it. "Still, I've heard of worse."

"Shall we give her another shout out?"

"A _what?_ Never mind. No, I want to talk to Daniel first."

But Daniel did not call them that afternoon or evening.


	3. Wednesday

In the morning, they reached the conclusion at the same time that Daniel needed to be "borrowed" for a while and questioned intently. They had the headmaster pull the boy out of his class and they drove him back to the station.

He was a bit grubby, with longish hair, the style that was carefully cultivated to show to the world he didn't care about carefully cultivating any particular "look." Parts of him clearly were not done growing--he was lanky and moved awkwardly at times, as if he wasn't used to his body being the size it was.

At first, he was insolent and resistant to questioning. But Lewis brought him a Coke to relax him. It seemed to work. After he had consumed half the can, he raved about Julia Ferris and ranted about her husband.

"He ignored her, except to beat her. He was having an affair with some scrubber. A real bastard."

"She told you all this?"

"She told me everything."

Lewis decided to keep turning the screws. "Did you know she was pregnant?"

"Of course I did. The baby was _mine_."

"You . . . were having sexual relations with her?" Lewis sounded surprised.

Daniel gave him a superior sneer. "Well, duh. That's the usual way that women get pregnant, you know."

Hathaway could see Lewis doing a slow burn, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Anything else you'd like to add, Daniel?"

There wasn't. The lad bore the air of an overconfident bantam rooster.

The two detectives grouped up in the corner, deciding what else, if anything, they could do. Hathaway whispered what they were both wondering.

"Do we take him into custody?"

"Based on _what?_ We've got nothing yet." Lewis was clearly frustrated. All they could do was find a PC to drive him back to school.

As they headed back to the office, Lewis was fuming. "He's an arrogant piece of work." But he carefully held up the Coke can he had given Danny. "Nice of him to give us his fingerprints, though, wasn't it?"

They returned to the office and Hathaway started writing up what was new for the day. Lewis suddenly uttered an expletive under his breath and leapt to his feet.

Hathaway looked at him curiously.

"I'm late for another bloody fitting. I'll be back soon."

"How does it look, this bespoke tux?"

"What d'you mean? It looks like a tux. Black. Posh. What's to know?"

When Lewis returned, they located Julia Ferris in her classroom after school was done for the day. She denied telling Daniel she was pregnant. She was most decidedly _not_ pregnant. Denied there being anything between them. Overheated imagination of teenage boys and so forth.

"It's a serious breach of ethics to get personally involved with a student. Grounds for dismissal. I'm not that stupid, Inspector, even if I did find an attraction." She stopped suddenly when her mobile buzzed. "Sorry." She switched it off.

She squinted at him. "Besides, if anyone was having an affair, it was Samuel."

"What makes you say that?"

"He was absent from home without explanation. Gave me the impression he was keeping secrets. It could have been business-related, though. He never shared with me how well the business was doing."

That appeared to be all the information they were going to get out of her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Ferris. If you think of anything else, call us, will you?" They turned and went out of the classroom. But as soon as they reached the hallway, Lewis put a hand on Hathaway's arm and pulled him to a stop. He put a finger to his lips and tipped his head toward the room they had just left.

"_I couldn't talk, the police were here, alright? That's not what I said, just relax, I'll call you later, okay? I do, too. Bye._" Whispered.

That evening, Lewis met Hobson for a beer after work. He had begged her presence, claiming to need her help sorting out a couple of issues.

"Doctor, if a woman was pregnant and her husband beat her hard enough to cause her to lose the baby, would there be . . . bruises? broken bones? anything that would show to the casual observer?"

"Not necessarily. Could be, but . . . no. Not always." She brightened. "If you'd kill her, I could examine her and get you all the answers you want."

Lewis was mildly amused. "Nice."

He told her about Julia Ferris saying Mr. Ferris was having an affair. "Any sign of that, condom in his wallet, STD, anything like that?"

She looked at him, incredulous. "Do you ever actually read my reports or do you just use them to shore up the leg of a wobbly table?"

Lewis looked abashed. "Well, of course I read them. I just . . . haven't gotten to this one quite yet, since you gave us such a thorough oral report the other night." It was clear he did not actually expect her to accept that. "I know you said he was sterile, but he still could have . . . y'know. Couldn't he?"

"Not just sterile, Inspector. Incapable of performing the act. Erectile dysfunction. Page four of my report." She was clearly displeased that her work had been ignored. "I recognize the topic makes you men squeamish, but I do work hard at my reports."

He adopted a properly apologetic attitude. "Maybe he had someone as an emotional refuge tucked away somewhere?"

"Were you under the impression that Mrs. Ferris would care so much if that were the case?"

He realized the truth of this. "Yeah, you're right. It's my impression that she wasn't all that sad to see him go."

Laura thought a moment and summed up her conclusions. "She's lying about all of it, I'd say. She twisted that poor boy into killing her husband. And he's so foolishly loyal, he'll never betray her unless you work your interview-room magic and get him to tell the truth. Don't let her get away with this."

His gaze traveled her full length and back, appreciatively. "I could use you on my team, y'know. You're a damned fine detective, Doctor."

She snorted. "I _am_ on your team, Lewis. Anyway, you detectives don't earn enough. Sorry. I'll stick with forensic pathology."


	4. Thursday

Lewis was cranky and miserable. Not focusing on the case. Hathaway knew it was because of the impending social event that evening and there was nothing he could do about that, so he did his best to ignore his boss's mood.

Finally, Lewis looked up. "She's lying. Let's bring her in."

At first, she said nothing. Lewis fired questions at her for half an hour without getting a response.

Then, she began to wear down. She conceded that Samuel Ferris used to beat her and that she was, in a way, relieved that his death meant the abuse had ended.

"But I didn't kill him, Inspector. Why would I put up with it for years and kill him now, after all this time? Yes, he hit me, but I loved him."

"Then who did kill him, Mrs. Ferris? One of your adoring students, trying to rescue you from Samuel? Or one of his business associates, tired of being swindled?"

She said nothing.

"Or did you hire someone to do it for you? Which is it, Mrs. Ferris?"

She looked up, tears in her eyes. "It was Danny. He called me yesterday and told me he had done it. He had this fantasy that I loved him and we were going to be together. I tried to explain things to him, but you know how teenage boys are."

Lewis abruptly turned and left the room, Hathaway half a second behind him. "Do you want me to write up a statement for her to sign, Sir?"

"Don't waste your time. She's still lying." He looked extremely cross and impatient. "Why does this blasted party have to be tonight? I have to go pick up me suit and Innocent wants us to get a haircut, too. As if I don't have enough to do without all this folderol."

"What about Daniel, shouldn't we pick him up?"

"Let's wait on that until we hear back from forensics on the fingerprints. If those aren't Danny's on the body, there won't be any need to bring him in."

He checked his watch. "Right. I have to go run these errands. Back in a while."

A few minutes after Lewis left, Hathaway got a call from forensics, reporting that the fingerprints on Daniel's Coke can were a match for those on Ferris's neck. Hathaway mulled over this information. Daniel was the killer, no doubt about it. Whether Julia had put him up to it or not didn't change his guilt. He had to be brought in.

After weighing the situation, Hathaway decided not to wait until Lewis returned. If there was a delay anywhere, the inspector might not get back until Daniel was out of classes, and then they'd never find him. And anyway, he was really just a kid. How hard could this be?

Hathaway explained to the headmaster why he was there, and the headmaster brought Danny out of class. Hathaway was told he could use the teacher's lounge to talk to the boy, no one would be using the room for at least another hour.

"Do you know why I'm here, Danny?"

Daniel looked at his shoes and said nothing.

"I know you're trying to protect Julia but she hasn't done anything wrong. This was your idea entirely, wasn't it? She wasn't pregnant. The whole thing is one-sided, just a fantasy on your part. You've imagined she loves you, imagined she needed your protection from her husband, and so you killed him to make her think you're some kind of hero. Isn't that right?"

Daniel stared at him, his face turning red as his anger built. "I _imagined_ it, is that what you think? Did I imagine _this_?" He pulled out his wallet and extracted a photograph, waving it under Hathaway's nose. The sergeant grabbed the boy's wrist long enough to get a good look at the snapshot. It showed Danny and Julia naked and clearly engaged in sex.

"She said she loved me, said that we'd be together forever if I would just get rid of him. She loves me that much!" He was crying now.

Hathaway set his mouth in a line. Lewis had been right about her lying. "She used you, Danny. She used you to get rid of Sam and now she's scraping you off. She doesn't care what happens to you. You have to help us make sure she doesn't get away with this."

"I don't care! I _love_ her!" Then he bolted from the room and was gone before Hathaway could react. As soon as the realization hit him, James leapt up and ran into the hall. He heard a distant door slam. The boy had vanished. _Oh shit_.

Hathaway put out a bulletin on the police radio but didn't expect a result on that any time soon. The school had plenty of forest around it, the boy could go to ground for hours. He drove back to the station, dreading what would happen next and kicking himself for being so stupid.

Lewis returned to the office about a half hour after Hathaway, hanging his garment bag on the back of the door. James still hadn't worked out what he was going to say and so he excused himself to have a smoke. Two minutes later, Lewis strode through the door and caught up to him. His face was black with anger.

"Why the hell is there a bulletin looking for Daniel Fisher, _Sergeant_?"

Hathaway swallowed.

"What the bloody hell did you do, Hathaway? I was gone, what, an hour? In that short amount of time, you've managed to lose a key witness and possibly a murderer? You've really cocked this up, haven't you? And you weren't going to tell me?" Lewis fumed, at a loss for words. "You damned stupid sod."

Hathaway knew he was getting it extra thick because of Lewis's dismay about the upcoming evening. But that didn't help. He knew he deserved the bollocking for letting Daniel get away and for believing Julia. All he could do was hang his head and shut his eyes. He inhaled sharply through his nose.

Lewis took a deep breath and let it out. He started again, more quietly. And that made it worse.

"James, what the hell happened after I left? You better tell me before I piece it together myself."

Without looking at the older man, Hathaway related the recent events, beginning with the call from forensics and ending with him posting the bulletin. His voice shook.

Lewis was silent a long time.

He fairly growled when at last he spoke again. "Get K-9 on this. Maybe they can find him. You should have done as soon as you lost him, as long as you were making executive decisions about the case. We'd've had a chance of finding him then. Now, it's . . . Well, it's just something to do."

They went back to the office and Hathaway called the K-9 unit. Lewis glared at him the whole time.

But after James hung up the phone, Lewis retreated a step. "Hathaway, I apologize for shouting at you."

"No, no, I totally deserved it. I really messed up this time."

"That doesn't make it right for me to shout. This . . . party tonight has me on me last nerve." His pause was to allow Hathaway to supply the adjective of his choice. "The thing is . . . when you make a mistake, you have to let it go and do what you can to minimize the collateral damage, okay? Brooding doesn't help anything."

Innocent entered the office then without knocking. She looked from one to the other, sensing the tension.

"What is happening here?" Arms folded.

They both looked up. Hathaway's eyes widened in surprise. She wore an elegant, lapis-blue silk dress trimmed in black piping and shot through with metallic gold. It flattered her shape, showing plenty of décolletage, and was also helped by the four-inch, strappy, black patent-leather heels she wore. The entire outfit was further glorified by an onyx-and-lapis necklace and earrings, fitted in gold, which accented the dress perfectly.

"Ma'am!" It was all he could manage.

She disregarded his admiration, arms folded, patent-leathered toe tapping. "Lewis, we need to be there in half an hour." She handed him a small box. "A loan. Go get dressed. James will tell me what all this tension is about. Isn't that right, Hathaway?" Lewis took his garment bag and left the office to change, as Hathaway mumbled a response to the Chief Super's question.

When he returned, Lewis could tell that James had again confessed his sins and that Innocent was taking the news rather well, considering. They both turned to look at him.

Hathaway was astounded to see his boss transformed. The tux was stunning: high quality fabric, silk shawl collar. The crisp, white shirt was topped with a black silk bow tie and an elegant waistcoat of black silk brocade with hints of lapis blue. The borrowed shirt studs and cufflinks were drops of lapis stone, picking up the blue in the waistcoat as well as that in his eyes.

Lewis tried to assess his sergeant's reaction. "Well?"

"It's like Cinderella, Sir. You are more than fit to attend the ball."

"I feel like a bloody wedding attendant. You go home this evening before you find Daniel, James, and you're sacked, understood?"

Hathaway made appropriately obsequious comments.

Lewis escorted his boss out to the car park, where she pointed out the black Aston Martin Rapide. It was big but sleek, and it immediately brought to his mind a black panther. Or, more specifically, a black panther with a six-litre, V12 engine. And he was being handed the keys.

He could actually feel his hormones surge and his pulse quicken.

However, once they arrived at the party and he turned the keys over to the valet, the feeling disappeared. Among the decorated and elegant partygoers, Lewis felt completely out of his element and uncomfortable. Waiters were circulating with trays of champagne flutes, but that was out of the question for him tonight. He made his way to the bar and ordered tonic water and lime, remembering Hathaway telling him once that the drink could provide "spurious glamour" to the drinker. He could certainly use some of that now. He was introduced to dozens of people he could not keep straight, and so mostly he kept his mouth shut and nodded.

He was surprised when Innocent, taking him aside to sit at a table, complimented him. "You're doing rather well so far, Robbie. Everyone seems to find you a bit mysterious." The orchestra began a sprightly waltz, and Innocent looked at him hopefully.

"Do you dance?"

"Aw, no, Ma'am, not this. I'm hopeless at a waltz."

She looked disappointed. As the music continued, more and more couples began to dance. It was clear to Lewis that she was very bored, having nothing to do but drink champagne. For some reason, conversation felt extremely awkward, so they simply sat in silence. He wished it would be over soon.

Then the music changed, taking on a definite Cuban accent, and Lewis sat up with interest. He glanced over and noted that Innocent seemed interested in the music as well. He stood up and offered her his hand.

"_¿Baila la rumba, Señora?_"

She was astonished. This wasn't Lewis. It was a rather dashing, Latin stranger that only _looked_ like Lewis. "_Sí, Señor, por supuesto_." They took to the dance floor and she was amazed to find that he was deft at the intricate steps. Not just technically skilled, but having a stylish flair she did not at all expect, and swaying his hips rather provocatively.

"Where did you learn to do this?"

"Cuba. The wife and I went for holiday there once, years ago. While we were there, we took rhumba lessons and danced away those hot evenings. Rhumbas and mojitos." He grew wistful.

"Is that where you learned Spanish, too?"

He smiled a bit sadly. "Just enough to ask a lady to dance, I'm afraid."

But in a few steps he was again having fun. The way he danced involved more close bodily contact than the style she had learned. Between the twirls, his hands were on her back, her shoulder, her thigh. She found herself rubbing against him when their bodies met. _Is it warm in here, or is it just me?_

They attracted the attention of other attendees, and in short order there was a woman tapping Jean on the shoulder. "All right if I cut in?"

Lewis remembered being introduced to her. She was a Member of Parliament but for his life he could not remember her name.

"Oh, certainly, Barbara." At least Innocent seemed to be on a first-name basis with her.

"My pleasure, M'Lady," Lewis added. Barbara beamed.

Jean wandered back to their table, picking up a flute of champagne on the way. Heated by the dance, she downed it much faster than she realized, and she took another when a waiter passed by. She soon grew impatient watching Lewis flirt with Barbara and decided her turn was up.

"All right if I have him back now?" She tapped the MP on her shoulder, and the latter graciously gave way. Lewis noticed with some concern that his superior officer was getting a bit more physical this time, frankly rubbing against him, even brushing his neck once with her lips.

But at the end of the rhumba, she let him return to their table when she was surrounded by Barbara and several other women of title (though Lewis could not for the life of him remember what those titles were), all chatting noisily.

At last the evening was over. Lewis collected the Rapide from the valet and helped Jean into the passenger seat. She had been walking rather unsteadily but her eyes were focused as she studied Lewis in the seat next to her.

"You were amazing tonight, Robbie. That dance . . . You've given me a huge boost in social standing among these people. Who would have thought?"

"Who, indeed, Ma'am."

As he motored to her house, he felt his mobile buzzing in his pocket. Innocent seemed to be dozing. He pulled the phone out: _Hathaway calling_.

"Yeah, Lewis."

"Sir, I hate to interrupt your evening, but there's a body in the canal by the Trout. Can you come?"

"Give me twenty minutes. Maybe less. We're on our way to the Chief's house right now but it's a ways out in the country."

He got her home and assisted her out of the car. She clung to him a bit, which he wrote off to her being wobbly on her feet. When he took her inside, she pointed to the staircase.

"Can you help me up to my room? I'm not sure I can manage the stairs too well."

He supported her up the stairs and down the hallway to a bedroom and then turned to go.

"Robbie? Would you help me with this gown? The zipper's in back and it's quite impossible for me to reach . . ." She huffed at his hesitation. "I'm not naked under this, if that's what you're worried about."

_No harm in being helpful, is there?_ He did as she asked, but was in full alert mode, ensuring that every movement was above board.

She held his arm and lowered herself onto her bed, holding out one foot at a time so he could take her shoes off. He set them to one side and smoothed her discarded dress over the back of a chair. When he turned to say goodnight, he saw that she had already fallen asleep. She still wore the beautiful stones around her neck. _Choking hazard_.

He bent over her, finding the clasp behind her neck and releasing it. He set the necklace on the nightstand next to her. He had just started to straighten and turn when he caught a glimpse of a big, angry man bolting across the room at him. He looked just like the man in the photograph on the nightstand, posing with the Chief. Only much, much bigger. Then the left side of Lewis's head exploded as the man's fist met his eye.

Lewis went sprawling across the room. The force of the punch had caused the man to lose his balance, and Lewis took advantage of the moment to roll to his feet, throw a chair between them, and take off running. He had no wish to try to reason with the man or to engage in further fisticuffs. He flew down the stairs, pelted across the driveway, and threw himself into the Aston Martin. The engine roared to life and the tyres squealed as he accelerated hard.

He fished around until he found the Chief's flashing blue light and put it on, flying toward the Trout at speeds exceeding twice the posted limit. Now that he was safe, he realized adrenaline was pounding through his veins and, combined with the testosterone rush he was getting from the powerful V12 engine, he felt invincible. He settled back into the black leather seat, intoxicated by the heady thrill of racing through the night.

The officers at the site could hear the revving car before they could see its headlights. Lewis wheeled the vehicle hard and hit the Trout car park with tyres screaming, the big Aston Martin seeming to head straight for the line of parked police cars. A last-second sharp tug on the steering wheel yanked the car around and it skidded sideways to a halt in a shower of gravel, coming to rest perfectly positioned next to Hathaway's car and missing an open-mouthed PC by about a foot.

Hathaway and Hobson had been down at the canal's edge, watching the SCUBA officer make his way into the murky water. When they heard the car rip into the car park, they stood up in startled alarm.

Lewis got out of the Aston Martin, jacket unbuttoned, and scanned the area to his left. The overhead light caught every detail.

"Wow." Doctor Hobson stared outright at him. Hathaway could see a touch of unconcealed lust in her eyes. A slight tweak of jealousy. _What the hell, it's just Lewis_.

Lewis was unaware of Hobson approaching from his right side.

"Who's James Bond, then? Robbie, you look-"

He turned to face her, smiling. "Doctor."

Her eyes widened and the end of her sentence changed abruptly. "-_terrible!_ What happened to your eye?"

Hathaway hurried up, and stared with concern at the purple swelling on the left side of Lewis's face.

"Mister Innocent is neither fictitious nor invisible. He's very real, and he's very big."

Hathaway glanced across the yard. "Peters!"

"Sir?"

"Ask the barman for some ice for Inspector Lewis's eye."

"Yes, Sir."

Hathaway left to ensure that the PC could handle the chore. In his absence, Laura looked Robbie up and down. Admiringly, he thought. Hungrily, even.

"You could get a girl's heart pounding, Inspector. Too bad about the eye."

He grinned. "Just stand on this side, then."

He noticed a PC standing awkwardly off to one side, shifting from foot to foot and looking at him.

"Graham. What's on your mind?"

"Um, it's the car, Sir."

Lewis cocked his head.

"It's, ummm . . . been reported stolen, Sir. And I, um, know it's not yours."

"Don't be daft, man." Lewis was clearly annoyed.

Hathaway came up with a small bag of ice wrapped in a bar towel, looking from one to the other. "What's going on?"

Laura unsuccessfully tried not to laugh. "The Guv's nicked a car, it seems."

Hathaway turned to the PC. "Thanks, Graham, I'll handle this." He looked sternly at Lewis.

"What? I'm not going back there now, he'll kill me. The Chief can drive it home tomorrow. Seems to be a communication problem there, and I'm not stepping into the middle of it."

A flurry of movement at the canal's edge caught their attention. Lewis turned to his sergeant.

"What's happening here, then?"

"The body was stuck on the lock gate. We had to call the divers to free it. Looks like they've done so."

The divers had pulled the body free and brought it out of the water and onto the bank. Hobson rolled it over, face up. It was Daniel.

Lewis's quiet "Aw, no" drew her attention. Hathaway bowed his head, eyes squeezed shut. His mouth was working silently and his face reddened with emotion. Lewis was watching him, serious. Concerned. A bit angry. It was clear to Laura that there was a lot going on here that she didn't know about. She turned back to her work.

Checking him over, she pulled a soggy wad of paper from the front jeans pocket of the body. She looked up at the two detectives.

"Here's a note." She held it up.

Hathaway wheeled and strode off to a dark corner of the car park, lighting a cigarette as he went. As Laura brought the note over to Lewis, she studied him, her gaze steady while he donned gloves and took the note.

"You're just going to let him tear himself up?"

"It's his cock-up that caused this."

"Cock-up?" She said it slowly, as if it were two separate words.

"Yeah. His."

"You sure that's not _your_ problem, Inspector? Only, you've been acting a right tosser ever since you got here. Very full of yourself."

He scowled. "I'm not trying to prove anything, if that's what you mean. He needs to appreciate that his mistakes have consequences."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't be ridiculous. Look at him. Right now he's appreciating the consequences of every single mistake he's ever made. He doesn't need you to hit him over the head with guilt; he's doing a fine job of that by himself."

Lewis considered this perspective, watching as Hathaway angrily flicked away the end of his cigarette. He frowned more deeply, but said nothing. He didn't want to be nice. James deserved to feel responsible.

"Go to him, Robbie. It's not his fault, you know that." When he didn't respond, she added, "And stop being a such a prick." She went back and knelt on the ground next to the body, resuming her investigation.

Lewis let out a breath. _Tosser. Prick. _What was the matter with him, anyway? She was right, he really wasn't acting like himself. _It's that bloody car_. He scanned the note Hobson had given him. Swallowing his pride, he shifted the ice on his eye and approached Hathaway slowly, as if trying to avoid spooking a skittish young horse.

"Hey?"

They stood and looked at each other for some time. Lewis broke his stare first. "You can't save everyone, James. That lad . . . she'd done too much damage to him."

Hathaway lit another cigarette, his black suit, black shirt, and narrow, dove-grey tie fitting his mood.

"With him dead, how are we going to get anything to stick to her?"

Lewis held out the note. "He's written it all down for you."

"For _me?_"

"Yep. He thanks you for being straight with him and telling him the truth about her. And he's given you the passwords to his emails and chats. So you can help yourself to all the incriminating goodies he saved from her."

Hathaway looked uncomprehending. "He _thanked_ me?" He pulled on gloves and took the note.

"Says if he'd had a dad or big brother like you, he probably wouldn't have gotten into this mess." Lewis smiled a little and raised his eyebrows. "Okay?" His gentle, tenor voice.

Hathaway nodded.

"Come on, Sergeant, let's go see what else Hobson's found."


	5. Friday

They went back to the office and spent the early hours of the morning there, Lewis plowing through the books and notes to make sure they hadn't missed a financial connection to the killing, and Hathaway combing through Daniel's computer. Lewis had unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and untied his tie, draping it around his neck. But he hadn't had the chance to go home and change.

Between the files James found and the note, a sad and sordid picture took form. Julia had manipulated Danny, telling him one thing and leading him on with sex, then dumping him when he was no longer useful. She had convinced him she was pregnant and that Sam made her lose the baby, and she encouraged him when he expressed his anger and his view that Sam deserved to die. But then she had sent an email on Tuesday telling him none of what she had told him was true.

"She couldn't have been more cruel. Made it sound as if he had been a fool to believe anything she said."

Lewis looked glum. "He _was_ a fool, poor lad. Looks like she was also having a bit on the side with that Russian bloke who loaned Sam his VAT money."

Hathaway curled his lip, by now thoroughly repelled by the woman they held in custody.

Doctor Hobson called them over around half past six that morning. She, too, had been working all night and she looked tired.

"It appears to be suicide by drowning. There's no sign that any other person was involved. He dove down into the water and tied himself to the lock gate. And you've already seen the note."

She checked the weather between the two partners. Seemed to be all clear, if not exactly sunny.

She turned to Hathaway. "Sergeant, I don't suppose you could get me some tea?"

"Of course. Sir?" He recognized she was trying to get rid of him, but he was perfectly willing to go along with it.

"Ta, that'd be great."

As soon as he left the room, Laura scowled at the older man. "I'm finding it difficult to apologize for the things I said to you at the Trout."

He made a wry smile. "No need to apologize, Doctor, you were spot on. I wasn't meself last night. In lots of ways."

"You turned into Mister Innocent?" She smirked a bit at the overdressed Inspector.

He snorted. "Yeah, that must be it. What a prat." He thought back. "Damned good driver, though."

* * *

They had been back at the office for a couple hours when the Chief Superintendent arrived. She passed their office with a mumbled, "Morning," then stopped short and backed up, staring at Lewis.

"You haven't been home yet? What's happened?" She frowned when he looked up at her. "And whatever happened to your eye?"

He shot a look at Hathaway, who was pretending not to be interested in getting the story behind the black eye. Lewis got up from his desk. "A word, Ma'am."

He stood patiently while she put her things down in her office and sat down at her desk. She rubbed her temples and shut her eyes.

"I seem to have a bit of a headache this morning, and I must admit my memory is not totally clear on all of last night. I hope I didn't have a reason to give you that shiner."

"Ah, no, Ma'am. You haven't spoken with your husband this morning?"

Concern crossed her face. "No, I let him sleep. I assumed he got in late last night." When she saw Lewis's expression, she put it all together. "Oh, dear God, he didn't. He _did_, didn't he? I'm so sorry, Robbie. I never told him you were escorting me last night."

"Well, in fairness, he might have misread the situation."

She looked alarmed at this. "What _situation_, Lewis? I honestly don't remember much after the point when we got in the car to go home."

He tried to sound as casual as he could. "You asked me for a little help on the stairs and with your . . . erm, with your shoes and all. I had just . . . erm, helped you get your necklace off when he came in the room. It might well have looked to him as if something else had occurred."

"But nothing had."

"No, Ma'am, certainly not."

"You must have moved pretty quickly to have gotten hit only once."

"Yeah, well, about that. His car was my only way out of there, and we had gotten this call out for a body and . . . Well, apparently he reported his car had been stolen. So if you could clear that up, I'd be grateful."

"Yes, I saw it in the car park. I'm very sorry about his . . . misunderstanding. He can be a bit hot-tempered at times. Usually when it is highly inconvenient."

She looked up brightly. "Anyway, thank you for your attendance last night, I hope you enjoyed it after all. And I'm sure you won't mind that I gave your name to several women who were quite interested in you after they saw you rhumba." She ignored his dismayed expression. "Now tell me about last night's body?"

* * *

"So you get to keep the tux as a gift?" Hathaway took another sip of orange juice while he waited for the answer. He had plied his boss with two pints and decided that should be enough lubrication to loosen his tongue.

"Gift? Are you mad? I earned that suit! It was only what I deserved for a job well done." Indignant.

Laura snickered. "And a beautiful black eye."

"Yeah, black and blue, like a coordinated fashion accessory!" James's comment drew an eyeroll from Lewis.

The doctor took a turn. "So you got to meet some powerful people, you got to drive a powerful motorcar, and you got to keep a powerfully good-looking suit. What exactly was your burdensome task, Inspector?"

"Meeting powerful people has never been a plus for me."

"Oh, pish-posh, I understand they adored you." She tried not to look sly. "Was it so bad being Mister Innocent for the night? I bet Jean enjoyed it."

"It turned me into a prat, for one thing."

Hathaway took over. "At least you didn't hit anyone for no reason. What made him swing at you, anyway?"

"Well, finding a strange man in his bedroom with his wife passed out on the bed and in a state of relative undress--" He stopped short. But not short enough.

Hathaway and Hobson both looked _extremely_ interested.

He tried to repair the damage. "It wasn't like that. I'm only saying that's how he might have seen it." He glanced from one to the other. "I was helping her, is all. She'd had maybe a little too much fizz."

"This gets even more fascinating. You might as well tell the whole story, Sir. Otherwise I'll just fill in the blanks out of my imagination."

Laura sat up straight. "Let's make it easy for him, James. We'll provide the blanks and he can fill them in. Question number one: Meeting all those important people made you feel . . .?"

"Awful. I couldn't remember any of their names. They all seemed so . . . y'know. Posh."

Hathaway's turn. "Here's a true-false question. You made a fool of yourself at the party: true or false?"

"False, definitely. I kept my mouth shut and Innocent even told me I did a good job. And she said the rhumba was a real bonus."

"Ooh, my turn!" Hobson couldn't wait. "_What_ rhumba?"

He was reluctant to answer. He was trying to steer clear of hubris ever since Laura's remark about him being full of himself. But it was part of the story, that much was for certain.

"Well, I could see Innocent wanted to dance but I can't waltz so we just sat there. But then they played a rhumba and I learned how to do that years ago in Cuba, so I invited her to dance. She was good at it and we were able to have some fun with it."

Hathaway's eyebrows shot up. "What exactly does that mean, 'have some fun with it'? I thought a rhumba is supposed to be sexy. But 'fun'?"

Lewis looked uncomfortable. "We made it look sexy. And that's what made it fun." He had another sip of the pint that had appeared in front of him at some point. "Only, I think Innocent maybe got a bit, erm . . . overzealous in playing the part."

James and Laura exchanged glances. Now they were getting somewhere. "She came on to you?" Hathaway tried to sound protective, rather than prurient.

He was embarrassed. "Yeah, she let an MP cut in and then she cut in back. After that, she was sort of all over me." He took to her defence. "She'd had too much champagne, is all. I wasn't going to make a scene and embarrass her. And she stopped when the dance was over."

Laura tried to hide her smile. "Except to invite you into her bedroom and get into . . . how did you put that? 'A state of relative undress'?"

He studied his glass. "I shouldn't have said anything. It was harmless and she didn't mean it." He looked accusingly at the two conspirators. "I'm sure she didn't realize how much she'd had to drink, just like I hadn't realized how much you two were feeding me tonight."

"You needed to talk about it, Sir. All that mental trauma."

"We're only trying to help you, Robbie. You know you can count on us."

He couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, at least I know I can count on you both to keep Innocent from finding out I grassed on her." He picked up his glass. "Cheers, you two."

"Cheers!"


End file.
